


The Juicy Bodyguard

by cullenlovesmen



Series: Bi!Cullen fics [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Cullen Rutherford, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Sebastian, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Don’t copy to another site, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-07-27 21:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20052955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cullenlovesmen/pseuds/cullenlovesmen
Summary: Sebastian really should have known better than to hire a bodyguard who looks like that. How is he supposed to keep himself in check with those amber eyes following his every move? How is he supposed to resist that sweat-soaked god of a man emerging from the gym room every morning?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McLavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/gifts).

> This is quite the PWP. This AU belongs to McLavellan and I'm happy she let me loan the setting and her boys! Terrible drawing by me, background picture from [Wikimedia Commons](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HK_Admiralty_Island_Shangri-La_Hotel_lift_lobby_hall_corridor_interior_Aug-2012.JPG).  


  


He should have hired another man to be his bodyguard. It's not that Cullen isn't competent - he is, exceedingly so - but the man is as much a danger as he is security. He'd come with a CV filled with glowing reviews and radiated nothing but cool professionalism from across the interview table, and Sebastian had made a mistake. A grave mistake. 

Cullen stands before him in the doorway to the backstage of a charity event, hands on his hips, effectively blocking Sebastian from entering. The man's arms are huge, his stature not unusually tall, but imposing in a way that has Sebastian's mouth water at the sight. What if Cullen crowded him into a corner, trapped him in place with those thick arms and hard body?

No. No, no, no, no. This is exactly why hiring the man had been a mistake.

Cullen, satisfied with scanning the room for visible threats, tells him to stay in place and wait as he goes to turn the place upside down. Commanding him, as though Sebastian isn't in charge here. Muscles flex as the man turns the pillows of a sofa, the show all too clear underneath his too-tight t-shirt as the man reaches for the top of a bookshelf, sweeping a hand on it for unseen threats. Oh, Holy Virgin, Sebastian really isn't in charge of much anything these days; least of all the situation downstairs that's scarcely covered by his kilt. 

Cullen turns around, giving him a solemn nod, gesturing for him to enter. The man watches him, scanning his entire body as if to see if he was harmed during the brief interlude during which he wasn't watching Sebastian. There's a tilt to his lips as his eyes stop between Sebastian's legs, but it's gone as soon as it appears, colour rising to the man's cheeks instead.

Oh, Holy Mother Merciful! This had been a big mistake.

* * *

It's been a while since Sebastian heard the television in the next room shut down. The walls in his house are thick; the entire place is well-built with money and care, but for some reason Cullen likes to watch his late-night true crime with full volume blasting through the speakers. The walls are too thick to let through the sound of breathing and snoring, and Sebastian can't be sure if Cullen is asleep, but.

But this is _his_ house, damn it. He shouldn't have to fear being interrupted in his own damn house. 

He's been waiting for this all day. It's been driving him mad; watching Cullen at work, muscles twitching and face drawn to a merciless scowl, keeping people away from Sebastian. Christ, the man has no idea how he looks, does he? He's the picture of professionalism, standing with his arms crossed on his chest, legs apart, immovable as a rock.

Oh, but what a delectable rock he is. Sebastian wants nothing more than to climb him, to put his arms and legs around him and call him his conquest. Although he's fairly sure that even if he were to do so, he wouldn't conquer Cullen. No, it would be the other way around. 

Sebastian reaches for the nightstand, pulling the drawer open with trembling hands. Christ, he's like a teenager again; the same wild boy who threatened to bring down his father’s empire. He shuffles until the dildo - a new acquisition, God forgive him - rolls into his hand, and he puts it on the blanket to wait until he finds the lube as well. 

He stares at the dildo, and, for a moment, he wonders if his image of Cullen is idealised. Would he be that big? Everything else about the man is big, which loans to the fantasy that perhaps his cock is proportional to the rest of him... 

He draws a shuddering inhale and closes his eyes. It doesn't matter. He'll never find out, anyway, but he may as well have this.

All set, he squeezes the lube into his hand and warms it between his fingers, trying to calm his breath. Then he brings his hand between his legs slowly, avoiding his straining erection on the way; a careless touch would surely push him over the edge, and that's not what tonight is about. A little whimper escapes him as he rubs circles around his entrance, gasping when he pushes the first finger in. 

Oh God, Cullen wouldn't be this fast to act, would he? He'd rub his fingers over Sebastian's hole until Sebastian would beg for more, and even then he'd hesitate. 

But these are not Cullen’s fingers, no matter how badly he wants them to be, so he makes quick work of preparing himself, scissoring his insides and stretching the muscles restricting entrance. The wet squelching sounds are dirty and incriminating as he pushes three fingers in, fucking himself in earnest now, trying to keep his mouth shut. 

Oh, this is so not enough. Three fingers can’t compare to the girth of Cullen’s cock, and tonight he’ll do with nothing less than his full fantasy. 

He picks up the dildo and sucks on its tip, wondering what sort of a face Cullen would make if he were to kneel before him and put his mouth on the man. Oh god. Perhaps he’d close his eyes and let out a shuddering breath that may or may not be Sebastian’s name, and sink his fingers into Sebastian’s hair. 

Fuck, he could come from the thought alone, but that’s not the way he wants to climax tonight. Sebastian releases the dildo with a pop, greasing it up and turning to lie on his stomach. 

No. Actually. He rises to his knees and places the toy underneath him, shifting until the tip brushes at his hole, and, with a deep breath, he starts sliding onto it. Oh, but the breach is long and torturous, making his insides quiver with anticipation. The stretch burns, but it’s a pleasant feeling; an intrusion he’s missed for so long. 

The resisting muscles give in quite suddenly, and Sebastian presses himself on the toy until there’s nothing more to take -- and then he waits.

Cullen would have his big hands latched on his hips now, and he’d gasp for breaths, and perhaps he’d even tell Sebastian how perfect his arse feels. A moan slips past Sebastian’s lips; of course Cullen would be the sweetest lay; of course Cullen would look up at him with adoring eyes and offer the loveliest words. But he’d also be hard and relentless, making him take a little more than what’s comfortable. Fill him to the brim and then some.

The thought is almost enough to undo him, so he starts moving, relishing in the merciless glide of the big cock inside of him. He closes his eyes, letting the fantasy grab him fully; Cullen, underneath him, fucking into him with his unforgiving girth, aiming his thrusts just so, brushing Sebastian’s prostate on every go. Cullen, grabbing his buttocks and massaging them, just on the side of painful, babbling about how he’s dreamt of fucking Sebastian for ages.

Sebastian’s entire body is throbbing in tandem with his neglected cock, lube squelching out of his stretched hole, and dick leaking precome as if it’s drooling at the images Sebastian’s mind makes -- and perhaps it is. Oh, but the fullness in his backside is a marvel; he’s missed this for so long, but not even his dreams have done the real thing any justice. 

Cullen would have his hands and lips all over his body, because a dick up his arse would not be enough of a claim to satisfy the man. He’d bring their bodies as close as he could, careful not to slip out of him, and then he’d latch his lips to Sebastian’s neck, murmuring and biting in turns. God, but he’d go mad if he could have that. Would Cullen go mad if Sebastian slipped into his room and offered himself for the taking right now?

He slides down hard on the toy, utterly wrecked by its size and firmness. A loud groan rumbles from his chest, and he doesn’t care. Cullen, Cullen, Cullen. He wants to chant it, to make the name into a plea and a prayer, a cry and a thank-you. 

A crashing sound comes from the next room, along with tumbling and a door clicking shut. Panicked, Sebastian flops onto his stomach and attempts to pull the blankets over himself, only managing to cover his arse as the door to his room opens and gives view to a bewildered Cullen. He’s down to his boxers, half-hard from sleep and hair all over the place. 

“Everything alright, sir?” 

It’s takes him a while to regain his breath; his hard cock feels heavenly against the sheets, and the toy pushes against his prostate just so -- and Cullen is watching him, as if unable to look away, and he needs to say something that’s not a plea or a prayer, but god, just look at that man at his door--

“Cullen…” 

It’s not what he meant to say, nor how he’s supposed to say it. 

Cullen stands, transfixed, at the doorway and, as if by reflex, Sebastian looks him in the eye and glides his dick on the mattress once and comes, and comes, and comes. He hears Cullen gasp, but it’s faint and does nothing to rouse him from the hold of his pleasure. 

Cullen, gasping. Christ.

It takes him a while to get his hitching breath under control, and he wants to sob at the feeling of the sturdy cock still inside of him, as heavy and merciless as Cullen’s would no doubt be, but Cullen is still watching him and waiting and he just can’t fuck this up more than he already has. 

“It-- it was just a dream. Cullen.” 

It’s such a lie, and he can tell Cullen sees right through it, but the man nods and backs away, hesitating a moment before pulling the door closed. 

Sebastian is almost sure he saw the outline of a fully erect cock lining the man’s boxers as he turned to leave, and god, but wasn’t it a big one and exactly-- 

There are no words as to how royally he’s fucked things up. He scrunches his eyes closed to ward off tears, and brings his hand to the root of the dildo, pushing and pulling in a soothing rhythm. There’s nothing he can do about it now. 

* * *

There is a new daily routine Sebastian has adapted to. His bodyguard is very much a morning person, and the man takes to the gym room at seven in the morning, every day without fail. The clinking of the weights had been an annoying disturbance just at the edge of Sebastian’s sleepy consciousness, and before long, he’d started waking up on his own accord before he could be stirred by the noise.

However, nothing could have made Sebastian a morning person quite as effectively as catching a daily sight of a very sweaty, a very breathy Cullen. Sebastian had changed the schedule of the kitchen staff to begin work at nine to assure he could be the one to help Cullen with his protein shakes and breakfast müesli -- that was how low he had fallen.

This morning is a little different, however; he’d found out Cullen loved oranges above all else, and here he is, pressing fresh orange juice for the man to refresh himself with. 

Familiar footsteps sound from the corridor, and Sebastian peeks past his shoulder to watch Cullen approach, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts, a towel hanging from one shoulder. Sebastian suppresses a sigh and squeezes the last drops from the orange half, dislodging the cup from underneath the device. Cullen greets him and makes for the water tap, but Sebastian slides between the man and the sink, blocking his path.

Oh, god, he’s so close. He holds his breath as he casts his eyes up to the man’s face, all pink and sweaty from exertion. “I-- uhh,” he mutters, biting his lip as his gaze drags - almost by its own volition - down the man’s neck to the hollow of his collarbones. He lets out a nervous laugh, too embarrassed to face the inquisitive eyes fixed on him.

Hell, but is the man a Greek god personified? Cullen stands in place, a mere breath away from him, the very male scent of him wafting into Sebastian’s nose. It’s intoxicating -- the glimmer of sweat on his pumped-up muscles; the deep breaths moving the hairs on Sebastian’s head; the heat radiating from him in waves, surging straight down Sebastian’s cock. 

“I-- I, umm,” he tries thickly, but almost chokes on his own saliva, terribly aware of the amber eyes locked on him. For a moment he wonders what it would be like if Cullen crowded him against the sink and fucked him right there; an indescribable sound pushes through his lips just as the cup in his hand leaks juice on his fingers.

Right. Right. This is what he was offering. 

He raises the cup to Cullen’s sight, still avoiding the man’s eyes in favour of watching the sweat pool in the hollow of his collarbones. “Juicy?” 

A stunned silence follows, as thick as the blood rushing through Sebastian’s veins. Then Cullen takes the cup from him with an amused huff, and drains it in one big gulp, the bob of his adam’s apple catching Sebastian’s raptured attention. A trail of yellow liquid slides down the man’s throat, and Sebastian holds his breath, resisting the urge to block its path with the tip of his tongue. 

“Juicy?” Cullen rumbles, and points a finger at where the liquid runs, and it’s all the invitation Sebastian needs.


	2. Siren Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McLavellan prompted me with "minor injury, pool, rain" and it turned out to be a pretty passable thing for chapter two of this AU. This won't end up a longfic, and I don't even know if there'll ever be another chapter, but never say never?

Cullen sits in a deck chair by the pool, nursing a tall, cold glass in his hand. Orange juice. Sebastian insists on making these for him; God knows how he learnt of his taste for the fruit, but Cullen won’t complain. The rain tapping the wall-high windows has no chance to be heard: rhythmic splashes come from the pool, the sound of water forceful over Debussy’s Two Arabesques in E Major playing from the central sound system of the pool room. 

He’s starting to recognise the pieces Sebastian most enjoys -- soon he’ll be adding knowledge of classical music to his CV. He pushes his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose and crosses his legs on the seat, distraction taking hold as his eyes follow the form of his employer. It’s a small mercy the swimming trunks are loose on his hips. 

Sebastian continues swimming laps across the pool, even though it must be an hour by now. It’s as if he never tires of it, just keeps going, day after day -- gliding smoothly as though water is his natural habitat. An image flashes through Cullen’s mind -  _ Sebastian, a merman, singing his siren song perched on a shoal, luring those trying to pass into shallow waters, destroying their ships with his irresistible allure _ \- and he suppresses a smile. Sounds about right. His career is certainly in danger because of this man, along with the professional morals he tries to uphold.

The sunglasses on his nose are a flimsy aegis; Sebastian knows he’s watching him, following his every move. It’s his job as a bodyguard, though the way his eyes drift over lean muscles and flawless skin has little to do with his duties. Sebastian knows that, too, Cullen’s fairly sure. At this point it’s an unspoken agreement that neither mention the tension between them; it crackles in the air, burns all the oxygen, leaving short breaths and dazed eyes. It’s all-consuming -- a fire that would turn them to ashes if they let it rage. 

Sebastian slows to a stop and hops out of the pool, casting Cullen a triumphant grin and lifting his swimming goggles to his forehead. His hair is slick with water, strands sticking to his cheeks, and he pushes one of the strays back with the tip of his finger -- and suddenly Cullen is jealous; dying to put his hands where Sebastian’s own have been. Cullen could do that for him; he would do anything Sebastian had half the mind to ask, no matter how big or small the request. 

Sebastian walks towards him, taking his time, not bothering to hide how his muscles flex with every movement. He no doubt knows how Cullen watches from behind his tinted lenses, appreciating the subtle show the man puts on for him. Stopping before Cullen’s chair, his smile falters the tiniest bit. 

"Does it still hurt?" 

Cullen raises a brow before realising the man means the bruise around his eye, brought on by fending off an overly eager admirer of Sebastian’s. Blood spikes red hot at the memory; how dared that man reach for what is Cullen’s! How dared he think he had any right to lay a finger on Sebastian!

He banishes the thoughts as quickly as they came. Sebastian is no more his than the stars in the sky - reminiscent of those blue eyes that shine bright - or the rising sun; so much like his radiant smile. All he has the right to is to watch and admire -- and to protect. 

The track changes and Clair de Lune fills the room; a violin arrangement Cullen is unfamiliar with. It sweeps into his ears with its coaxing sweetness, but holds his attention for only a moment; Sebastian’s siren song is louder and sweeter.

Water trickles from Sebastian’s hair to his shoulders, down to his chest, leaving little trails that disappear down his hips and under the waistband of his speedos (Lord have mercy, why must he always wear speedos?), and Cullen suspects the colour on the man’s cheeks is only partly due to exertion, and mostly due to him knowing exactly the way Cullen’s eyes roam behind the sunglasses. “I never said it hurt,” he grumbles at last, taking a long swig of juice -- to busy himself, to treat the Kalahari drought in his throat.

A drop escapes from the corner of Cullen’s mouth, slipping down his neck before he can stop it, and Sebastian’s eyes widen as they follow the juice travelling to his chest. Oh, good God. He remembers Sebastian’s mouth on him, catching a stray droplet that one morning when they strayed, when he almost pressed the man to the kitchen counter and fucked him right there like he belonged to Cullen. 

Had it not been for Vice CEO Granger’s inopportune timing, he probably would have.

He can’t meet Sebastian’s eyes -- in fact, there is no safe territory for his gaze to land on. Sebastian’s hip bones jut like buttons begging to be pressed, his shoulders are broad and firm from years of archery and swimming, the veins on his arms invite Cullen’s tongue to trace them, and his legs make him wonder how neatly they’d wrap around his hips. 

Granger is nowhere to be seen. There is no salvation this time, no hope for him. May as well write down shagging his clients on the CV, too.

There’s water dripping down the back of Sebastian’s hand, and Cullen slips his fingers under the man’s palm, brings his hand to his mouth, and flicks his tongue to capture the chlorine droplet -- and the air crackles, oxygen burning off with a heady rush, the sound of the violin barely penetrating the thick atmosphere encasing them.

Sebastian sways on his legs, eyes hooded and fixed on his, getting hard in the speedos that hide nothing. Without a warning, he loses his footing, and, in a breathless second, stumbles back into the pool with a graceless splash. 

Cullen throws off the sunglasses and jumps after him, professional instincts taking over before his brain can think it through. A moment later his arms slip around Sebastian’s chest, and, with two forceful kicks, he brings them to the surface. Sebastian stares from a mere hair’s breadth away, his eyes quizzical, the hooded dizziness returning slowly. He’s floating on his own, body recalling this as his natural habitat, and Cullen lets go, putting some distance between them.

“You didn’t have to rescue me,” Sebastian whispers, and Cullen can’t read the low tone of his voice.

It’s true; Sebastian would have managed just fine. He swims much better than Cullen could ever hope to, but… “Perhaps I needed to save myself.” 

From the moment. From the mistake he almost made. Did it even work? He feels far from safe.

Sebastian regards him from under his brows, expressive lips drawn to a straight line. Just as Cullen is getting lost in his beauty again, his naked eyes studying the line of the man’s jaw and wondering if a sculptor could ever do it justice, Sebastian lets out a snort and grins like the sunrise.

Helpless to resist, Cullen answers it with his own - albeit dimmer - smile, never quite matching in radiance. He reaches out a hand underwater with no command from his brain, brushing Sebastian's side with his fingers, enraptured by the way the man's glee turns into something else. Sebastian glides towards him, all signs of gracelessness lost, time stopping as their eyes remain locked, breaths on pause as they read the messages flashing between them. 

Cullen wraps an arm around Sebastian’s back, pulling their bodies flush together, excitement surging through him in unstoppable waves. Their lips are so close; Sebastian’s smirk is twitching at the edge of his vision, and Cullen leans in to kiss the-- 

Someone bursts into the pool room and they spring apart as though electrified. 

"Mr. Vael, the Japanese trade delegation is here!" The corner of Granger’s moustache twitches in irritation at the sight of them. 

The man is gone before he can be reprimanded. The last notes of Clair de Lune fade into silence as Sebastian climbs off the pool, the corner of his lip turning downward now. Cullen idles in the pool like an idiot, all too aware of how little help loose swimming trunks are when wet. 

Wrapping a towel around himself, Sebastian rushes past him, an apology in his eyes -- along with a promise. When the door clicks shut behind him, oxygen sneaks back into the room.


	3. Conquering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This fic was not finished, after all. There will be at least one more chapter in which we'll scratch the "un"-part of "unresolved sexual tension." Stay tuned and enjoy the build-up!
> 
> Thank you ever so much, [McLavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/works), for letting me borrow your AU, for cheerleading me, for betaing, and for being such an amazing human being. <3
> 
> Art by the amazing [Tikattu](https://tikattu.tumblr.com) \-- thank you!

Sebastian has no idea what’s happening in the movie anymore. His gaze keeps drifting to his side -- Cullen sits there next to him, eyes fixed to the large screen. Oh, but he looks delectable in his shorts and t-shirt, fresh from his evening run, and Sebastian can’t quite believe he's lured him here with the promise of Arnold Schwarzenegger. 

Not that it wasn’t his plan in the first place. A guilty flush threatens to rise to his cheeks -- it’s Cullen’s evening off and Lord knows the man needs his rest. 

But… can Sebastian really be blamed for wanting some more time with him? Ever since he let this man to accompany him to their first event, there’s been an itch he can’t quite scratch, always just out of reach, deep underneath his skin. If he’s honest, it’s been there right from the start, but the light, teasing tickle has turned into a blaze and… he really needs help. 

Cullen frowns at the television, bottom lip catching between his teeth for the briefest moment. Oh… that’s a sight. How would it feel to grasp it between his own teeth? Bite down a little bit, run his tongue over the offended spots, suckle until it’s pink and swollen. Would Cullen let him, or would he overpower him -- or push him away?

A sigh leaves him completely unbidden, and Cullen’s eyes are on him before he can school his expression. Shit. Heat and horror rush through him in equal measure as Cullen’s face goes from alert to questioning, his lips opening the slightest bit. There’s nothing Sebastian can say that’s not a blatant lie, so he waits. And waits.

And waits.

But Cullen is quiet in the darkened room, the lights from the screen playing on his face as he watches Sebastian -- an invitation in his eyes now. Ever so slowly, he leans to the back of the sofa, resting an outstretched arm on top of the cushions, his gaze never straying from Sebastian’s. 

Oh, God. Is that a spot for him? 

Cullen licks his lips as he waits, fingers trailing the seam of the cushion, and… this is Sebastian’s chance. Maybe this time they won’t be interrupted. Maybe this time he’ll taste those lips, feel them trailing a wet path down his neck, have them ravish his skin and lips and cock and arse and… he’d allow them anywhere. 

He pulls in a steadying breath as he moves, inching closer. The silence is deafening, the beat of his heart like a drum in the hands of a shaman, and he dare not look as he approaches his gorgeous bodyguard. The pit of his stomach ignites as a hand lands on his shoulder, guiding him near, and Cullen’s body radiates warmth to his side -- closer now, hotter than he can reasonably handle, and so, so close--

A buzz of static comes from somewhere upon Cullen’s person, the violent sound making Sebastian jump -- but Cullen catches him in a flash, crushing him against the sofa with his body and looking about wildly. Just as quickly, the man springs to his feet, hurriedly digging his pockets and pulling out a walky-talky. “Yes?”

* * *

Words cannot accurately express Cullen’s frustration. He’d very specifically told the team not to contact him tonight unless it was absolutely necessary, and yet they inform him Granger is at the gates, asking for permission to enter. Hardly what he’d call an emergency; he’s so close to yelling at them. It doesn’t make much sense, but he could swear Granger is doing this on purpose, whether it is to bully Sebastian or to sabotage the inexplicable, fragile thing between them.

Sebastian speaks with the man through the walky-talky, frustration evident in the way he pinches the bridge of his nose. Is he going to give in and go over some meaningless details of a contract on a Friday night? Ruin the tentative hopes Cullen had for tonight?

Cullen’s gaze drifts as his employer turns around to hiss at his overly eager manager through the speaker. The waistband of Sebastian’s yoga pants hangs precariously low, revealing a strip of golden brown skin, the dip of his lower back contoured by the screen’s light. The grey t-shirt has ridden up, and it’s far too tight for Sebastian, and Cullen could swear the man is baiting him on purpose. It seems the whole world is conspiring against him tonight. 

Not that he’s particularly offended by the sight of Sebastian’s arse in those red yoga pants. The muscles move as the man shifts his weight from one leg to the other, offering new angles from which to admire them. Cullen can’t tear his eyes away from the impeccable roundness, how absolutely juicy it looks. He forces his breath to flow in a steady in-and-out as he watches the shadow of that cleft, stomach tightening as he imagines running his fingers down and down and down, ever lower until Sebastian jerks under his touch.

Oh, great. He’s hard again. 

This is madness! He’s not known a peaceful minute since accepting this job. When he’s not chasing inappropriate fantasies away, his mind is occupied with decoding Sebastian’s many smiles and looks, seeking an explanation. What is this magnetism between them? It’s more than lust and infatuation, as those relent over time, but it’s been months and… Cullen is helpless and aching ever more. Every day that passes without giving into this nameless pull makes it harder for him to control himself.

One day he’ll simply reach out and tug Sebastian to him, slot them together, driven too wild to give a damn about the consequences. He’ll plunder the man’s mouth, swallow every sound, and fuck him senseless on a table if he’ll let him. 

Because every passing day makes Cullen feel less like the hired help and more like the man Sebastian longs for. The unseen force doesn’t relent; it grows in silence as they exchange looks and seemingly meaningless flirts. 

He’s past the point of caring about blemishes on his CV. The only reason he’s holding back now is his silly, fluttering heart. It’s sheltered and raw, easily scratched and all too quick to break. But it’s already in Sebastian’s hands, and Cullen can’t have it back. Is it better to let it suffocate and wither away without ever knowing how it could flourish on Sebastian’s palm, or should he give the man a chance to slash it in two tonight?

Besides, Sebastian is never going to be the first one to break -- not when he signs Cullen’s paychecks and holds all the cards.

So why exactly is he hesitating when there’s still a modicum of self-control at his disposal?

* * *

“Tell him to go home.”

Sebastian stops mid-sentence, turning to face Cullen. “I’m sorry?”

“Tell him to go home.”

The look in Cullen’s eyes leaves no room for argument, and Sebastian - a thirty nine year old man - trembles, fighting the urge to obey blindly. But he has to know; needs to hear it. “W-why? Do you have need of me tonight?”

It comes out sounding weak and unsteady, but Cullen’s lips twist a little, breaking the earnest mask. “Yes, I do.”

That’s all he needs, really. More of an admission he dared to hope for. He makes quick work of his task, telling Granger they’ll solve the awkward word choices of the Japanese contract tomorrow, turning the device off with shaking hands. All right. 

All right. 

What now? 

Cullen is watching him expectantly and Sebastian has no idea what to say, doesn’t even know if they’re on the same page, so he swirls around and puts the movie back on play. He sits down carefully on the sofa, not close enough to touch, holding the remote controller with a white-knuckled grip. 

Just as he’s getting his breath under control, Cullen’s hand slides over his, delicately pulling at his fingers until Sebastian gets the memo and lets the device go, heaving out a breath. A quick press of a button and the screen goes dark, only the low lights of the kitchenette illuminating the room. 

Sebastian’s back in that place with the shaman, heart drumming wildly as he waits for what comes next, trying to push aside hope and fear alike. Too afraid to look at Cullen, lest he see the hope in Sebastian’s eyes. 

“Sebastian,” Cullen starts, voice scratchy. “I-- I can’t help but notice there’s something between us,” his fingers return to Sebastian’s hand, brushing ever so slightly, as though stealing a touch he’s not allowed to have, “and correct me if I’m mistaken, please, but… what I’m saying-- what I’m trying to say is that if you feel it, too, I would very much like to--”

“Yes,” Sebastian croaks, surprised he’s capable of talking right now, with Cullen’s touch tightening around his fingers. “I do, and I would like to, too.” A nervous chuckle breaks out, a shock of something warm going through his entire body. Can this really be real? 

Cullen doesn’t say anything; the movement of his fingers pause. As though he’s waiting for something more. Sebastian searches his brain for something to say, a way to let the man know what he can’t adequately put into words. “Anything you want.”

Heat surges in him as Cullen pulls him closer, right into the incredible warmth of his well-built body, a searing arm circling around his back and holding him there. He can’t see much, but oh boy… Cullen is both soft and solid, built for strength and combat, and before he can think better of it, he’s climbing the rock of a man. Conquering, like he’s dreamt, needing to be conquered and claimed in return. His thighs wrap around the man’s sides, and he’s not sure if it’s him sighing or Cullen, as they slot together like a jigsaw puzzle.

A moment of silence lingers. Sebastian dares not breathe as Cullen’s hand slips underneath his shirt, hot palm rubbing up and down, the other hand sinking into his hair. Pressing his head so they’re cheek-to-cheek. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Cullen murmurs, his voice soft and alien against Sebastian’s ear. “How I’ve craved you.”

Oh God. A moan builds at the base of his throat and he lets it loose, helpless to stop it.

And just like that, it’s finally happening.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


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